


The Best Intentions

by Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell



Series: There's A Hole In My Soul [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:50:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell/pseuds/Katherine_Queen_Of_Hell
Summary: He drinks and remembers. She watches, wishing she could forget. What a pair the two of them make.





	The Best Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think!

She found him in the Third Rail, shitfaced and raring to start a fistfight anywhere he could find one. Charlie had started refusing him drinks, telling him to go home and sleep it off. But, MacCready couldn't do that. He had a drink away they day's frustration. He had to sip that swill they call booze and remember the past. He had to remember... Lucy.

Delaney eases the mercenary away from a drifter with whom he was having very unsavory words with and guides him up the stairs and out of the subway-station-turned-bar. She always wondered what the appeal was; what made an old, collapsed tunnel such a popular hangout for scum and gentry alike. Maybe taking up drink was an equalizer, a buffer zone between the rich and the poor, the good and the evil. Drink being one of the few pleasures of this goddamned world, it's easy to see why so many could bond over it.

The Sole Survivor nods at Ham as they pass, hauling MacCready through the doorway at the end of the hall and out into the cool evening air. It's late October, almost Halloween. Deprived of his link to old, painful memories, MacCready slumps onto one of the benches just outside the Third Rail, taking off his hat and raking a hand through his tawny hair.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." He mutters, not meeting Delaney's soft gaze as she takes a seat beside him, leaning her rifle against her legs and placing her hands in her lap. Even now, she maintains those good 'ol pre-war manners. Legs crossed at the ankles, spine ram-rod straight, shoulders back, and her hands folded neatly over her knees. Lady-like they call it.

She sighs, maintaining composure, and replies, "It's okay, Mac. We all need a break sometimes. I just wish you'd take it easy."

Sobered enough by the cool air to think straight, MacCready looks up a the sky, admiring the bright shine of the stars. He wonders, briefly, if Lucy's there; if she's watching every stupid mistake he's ever made and shaking her head. He can almost see her clear as day among those twinkling crystals. And, God, he wants her to be real.

Delaney clears her throat, drawing him out of his stupor, and stands. She pulls rifle over her shoulder and adjusts her leather armor. "Come on. Let's go get a room over at the Rexford. You need to sleep this off." She offers her hand to him, soft palm open and inviting.

Taking it gladly, MacCready lets her lead him over to the hotel, up the stairs, and into bed. Exhaustion sets in as soon as his tired muscles hit the mattress, making him groan softly and relax into the fabric. They had walked all day, trying to get to the Castle before dark. But, as usual, pesky raiders, stumbling super mutants, and everything else the Commonwealth can spit at them slowed their journey and forced them to take refuge in Goodneighbor for the evening.

Through his sleep-blurred vision, MacCready watches as Delaney pulls a clean blanket from her back and drapes it over him. The memory of her sitting on the sidewalk outside of her Sanctuary home and carefully stitching Yao-Guai hide to make said blanket crosses his mind, causing a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth and warmth to bubble in his chest. Somewhere in his fuzzy sight, a candle is blown out and darkness envelops the room and MacCready, leading him to a dreamless sleep.

 

***

There are only three times MacCready has woken up to a hangover like this: his first time taking part in drinking, the morning after he and Lucy's wedding, and... well, this would be the third. Last night was a big, BIG mistake.

Clamping his eyes shut against the morning light streaming through the curtain-less window, MacCready sits up and stretches the aching muscles of his back. The bed might have been comfortable in that hooch-induced haze he suffered through the previous evening, but it sure as hell isn't now. Out of his peripheral vision, he spots Delaney sitting on the floor beside the bed, her shoulders shaking slightly from what he can see through his headache. Is she... crying? No. No, she can't be. The Boss doesn't cry. The Boss is a hard-ass who can taking anything the Commonwealth throws at her. Every smart person knows to steer clear when they see that vault suit come into view.

Despite the obvious irritation it causes in his overused muscles, he crosses the mattresses as gently as he can and slides onto the floor beside her. Delaney looks up at him, tear lines streaking her cheeks, and starts to say something, but cuts herself short when MacCready gently puts his hand on her forearm in an attempt to be comforting. She takes a deep breath looks down at her opposite hand where her fingers clutch an old, faded photograph. He can see her, wearing a delicate pre-war ensemble, with a baby cradled in her arms and a man encircling her with his own. He can only assume that the baby is her late son, Shaun. The man, however, is a mystery. She's mentioned her husband before, deceased as well, but he's never seen what he looked like.

Pointing to the man, he asks, "Is that him? Your husband?"

"Yes," Delaney nods, running her thumb over the man's face. "His name was Nate."

"You loved him a lot, huh?"

She nods again, not answering vocally for fear of a shaking voice.

MacCready can relate to her pain. After he lost Lucy, he could barely speak to any one. He did what he needed to get by and take care of Duncan and that was all. Reaching into his duster, he retrieves a small carven soldier, fatigues and helmet painstakingly painted on it. "Lucy made me this," he says, turning the small figurine over in his hand. "I told her I was a soldier. I... couldn't tell her I killed people for a living. I couldn't own up to my past because I didn't want to lose her."

"You had the best intentions. I can understand that." She watches him run a thumb over the face of the soldier, seeming to take in every detail as he does so.

"Yeah, but... even the best intentions can mean the end of something beautiful. Guess that's what made me decide we should hole up in that subway station... the best intentions."

Delaney looks at her picture. "That's how we ended up in that fucking vault..." She sniffles and her fingers tighten around the picture.

MacCready slides his hand down her forearm and laces his fingers with her own, squeezing gently. Compared to his calloused skin, hers looks so delicate, but he knows better. He's seen those porcelain fingers break noses, pulls triggers, and strangle unsuspecting raiders. She quiet and calm when she does so, too, almost like a ghost in her actions. She's tall, limber, and graceful, catching the eyes of many, but slipping under the sight of those she wants to avoid with ease. Delaney's qualities make her more and more appealing the more he thinks about and before his hangover-racked brain can catch up, he's leaning over and kissing her.

The meeting of their lips is soft and reserved, almost like they're afraid of what might follow. Unwilling to rush into things, MacCready takes it slow and gives her the chance to pull away if she wants, but she doesn't. If anything, she's growing more and more inviting of him.

When the kiss breaks, they're both slightly out of breath, foreheads pressed together as they take a moment to get some air.

"Mac-- Robert," Delaney says, her steel colored eyes looking up into his own. "The best intentions..."

"...Can have the worst outcomes. I know. But that's not going to happen with us. I won't let it."

She smiles, closing her eyes and letting out a breath she wasn't aware she was even holding. MacCready returns the smile as she moves to lay her head on his shoulder and he thinks on what will come of this. At the moment, all he can come up with are the best outcomes of these intentions.


End file.
